


A Crown of Pine

by silriven



Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: Bedroom Wrestling, Fade to Black, M/M, One-Shot, References to Canon-Typical Violence, Sneaking Around
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-28
Updated: 2020-10-28
Packaged: 2021-03-08 23:08:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,412
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27244762
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silriven/pseuds/silriven
Summary: Mathias chases a shadow through the broken halls of Stormwind Keep into places he shouldn't be.
Relationships: Mathias Shaw/Edwin VanCleef
Comments: 4
Kudos: 17





	A Crown of Pine

Stormwind Keep was a good and proper mess. The fortress of white stone was no longer quite so impenetrable, not with gaping holes in the walls torn by orcish weapons. It wasn't quite so gleaming anymore, either, with drying brown blood stains from the bodies that had fortunately long been removed. Its skeleton was supported by braces of wooden beams and iron bars to give a ladder of support for the Stonemasons’ to climb so that they had access to every inch of the affected areas from floor to the ceiling. Through their labor, eventually the walls would be paved and the stones would be washed. One day soon, Stormwind Keep would once again be a pristine bastion on the edge of the ocean. And the Stonemasons would be sent back to their homes.

But it was not yet that day and Mathias Shaw found himself dodging both lunching workers and support beams as he chased a shadow through the dark eastern hallways. The cold autumn breeze nipped at his ears, red and raw from the brisk walk over from Old Town, pushing in through the holes in the exposed walls and the open window frames that were still missing their glass. His nerves were raw, throbbing with adrenaline, his teeth gritted to suppress the urge to shout.

“Edwin. _Edwin_.”

His voice came out as a hiss, echoing in the walls of empty stone. The shadow ahead of him spun around and in the panel of a sunbeam, manifested into the shape of a young man with a sharp face and sharper eyes. Before the man moved back into the shadow, Mathias caught the briefest glimpse of a smirk that made his heart stutter and blood rush to his cheeks.

“What?” Edwin asked in a tone of voice that was nothing short of infuriating.

The man ducked behind a corner and Mathias felt the pit of his stomach drop. He dodged around, finding himself at the base of a winding staircase, one foot coming to rest on the second step, the other planted firmly on the ground. He spread his arms so that the palms of each hand pressed into the stone walls on each respective side, as if he were trying to brace himself against floodwaters pushing at him from behind. It felt as if his pulse was thrumming within every vein in his head. His mouth dropped and he sucked in a long breath of air, from more rage than fatigue.

That same insufferable tone of voice slunk down the steps, echoing so loudly from each turn that Mathias was sure everyone in that wing of the Keep could hear it:

“If you don’t think we should be here, then come and arrest me, coward.”

Mathias lowered his arms and uncurled his hunched spine, straightening with a dancer’s grace. The anxious creases smoothed from his pale face, one hand combed through the strands of his fine, copper-red hair, wiping the sheen of sweat from his brow. He ascended the staircase, leather boots barely making a sound, until he found himself at the open doors to the royal quarters.

Everything in the parlor, from the sofas, to the ornate dining table, to the marble fireplace, was covered in sheets of tarp to protect it from the builder’s dust that coated the floors and walls. A long strip of tarp taped to a broken portion of wall fluttered in the wind from where it had come partially loose. Mathias strode past into the master bedroom, where Edwin stood, facing an open window. The sleeves of his stained white shirt were rolled up above his elbow, showing off the muscles in his arms as he leaned against them, almost hanging out as he let the wind take his long, dark hair.

Mathias was at the other end of the room in the span of time most men required to take a single breath and he had both of those arms pinned behind Edwin’s back, pressing him further out, bending him over the windowsill. The next gust of wind brought in a laugh.

“Relax, darlin’. Their majesties are nowhere near this part of town anymore. No one cares who comes up here while renovations are being done.”

The soles of Edwin’s boots scraped against the floor as he scooted his hips back and pressed right up against the front of Mathias’ pants. A wave of heat curled through his gut where it pooled and throbbed. The heat of Edwin’s body pressing into him was suddenly too much. Everything was too much.

Mathias braced his legs and with a grunt, pulled Edwin up and out of the window, using the momentum to spin him around and push him towards the four-poster bed, stripped of its fine quilts and sheets, just the old straw mattress left exposed and two faded pillows. It was the largest bed either of them had seen, never mind slept in. With the portraits of kings and queens long past watching from their hangings on the walls, Edwin stumbled and jerked, wrists turning and twisting in Mathias’ iron grip. Edwin was tall and strong but Mathias used his weight against him and marched him across the room, shoving him face-first down onto the royal mattress.

“Oh, I see how it is, now,” Edwin’s tease was muffled by the fabric, the strain in his voice strangely satisfying. His hands gave another jerk, but stayed put, and Mathias used his locked knees to spread Edwin's legs apart just a fraction wider. “Here I just wanted to show you the nicest view in Stormwind and turns out you and your filthy mind’ve got other ideas--”

Mathias’ hand slipped down to clasp, firmly, over Edwin’s mouth.

“Hush,” Mathias’ quiet voice whispered before his lips traced the curve of Edwin's exposed ear, where it had slid out through a part in his long dark hair.

Edwin, blessedly, complied.

* * *

“Have you ever been up north?”

Mathias wasn’t ready to lift his head from the musty pillow. Somewhere beneath the dust was the remnants of fine amber perfume, but it mostly carried the scent of the open autumn air. Everything would need to be thrown out and replaced, before the Wrynns moved back in, most likely with the addition of a bassinet. Mathias did not want to think of the cost and he tried to push it from his mind.

“No,” he murmured, shifting his arm beneath the pillow. “I have not.”

Fingers ran up the back of his head, rubbing against his scalp. A groan died on his lips, turning into a long exhale as he allowed himself to relax more fully into Edwin, who was spooning him from behind. Edwin tucked his legs so that they were firmly entwined, his foot bouncing like it always did when he was thinking.

“One of these days,” Edwin’s rough, delicious, conspiratorial tone slid into his ear. “I’ll fetch us a couple of good horses. We’ll throw on backpacks and take a ride, all the way to Dun Morogh.”

“Why?” Mathias asked, eyelids flickering as he succumbed to the prickling feeling that now engulfed his head, neck, and shoulers. “What’s in Dun Morogh?”

“Evergreen trees,” Edwin explained. “Their branches stay fresh all year round. I’d like to see them.”

He leaned in, lowering his voice so that his warm whisper spilled across the other man's stubbled jaw.

“I’d like to lay you down and take you beneath the boughs, give you a crown of pine needles.”

“Camping in Dun Morogh?” Mathias didn’t have the energy yet to back his incredulity with the kind of gruffness the proposition deserved, even as he felt a jolt roil through his chest at the thought. The distant snow-dusted mountains that rose high beyond the purgatory-red volcanoes of the Burning Steppes were said to be unfathomably beautiful up close. “I don’t know. Sounds cold.”

Edwin’s strong arm tightened around his waist, drawing him closer, pressing more of his body heat in. His dark hair tumbled across both their shoulders, smelling of the wood and brick he’d spent the day molding. Mathias let himself meld into the touch, rough calloused fingers tracing a fresh scar at his waist.

“We’ll go next summer, then. It’ll be a blessing to get away from the hellish ocean sun for once.”

His lips pressed into the side of Mathias’ neck, right against the spot where the other man’s pulse beat at a strong, steady pace.

“Besides, I’ll keep you plenty warm.”


End file.
